If you want to love me,
don't just give me your words,
keep your empty promises,
I've had enough of those.

Trace your fingers along my skin
until you can tell my stories,
memorize the hidden scars
and know the depths of my heart.

Cut your fingertips on the cracked
mirrors inside my chest cavity
as they reflect my insecurities
and all my trembling mysteries.

Warm up beside the fires within me,
feed me timber when I begin to fade,
shield me on the dreadful rainy days,
fan my small sparks into flames.

Don't you dare tell me you love me
if you haven't yet wept for me,
felt the sting of my broken pieces,
or burned when I came alive.

*~Matthew Walker~